


A Bout De Course

by princepsinferni



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepsinferni/pseuds/princepsinferni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange thing crawls across eighteen-year-old-Vincent Phantomhive's path one hot night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French; "on one's last legs"

Fire. Fire, fire, fire and red. Multiple hands, sliding and scratching across your ripped skin. Hands, hands touching and grabbing and twisting and  _touching_ and blood. Blood, blood running down ribs, blood running down legs and wrists and cheeks. 

Aren't you tired of it? 

Aren't you ready to be free? Free, free, at last? Haven't you seen enough horror, even if this is Hell? How many children have you seen slaughtered, how many times have you been stretched too thin? Can't you be finally free? Don't you deserve as much? Freedom isn't going to be handed to you, dear. You're going to have to work for it. Plan it. _Execute it._

Your shaking, bruised hand reaches up, clawed fingertips running down a different torso. Blood smears are left behind, from where you wiped your mouth earlier. You are surrounded by the smells and sights of what you have come to accept as life. You have come to accept this, this lingering ache between your thighs, this heaving chest, this struggling to survive. There is nothing you can do, right? 

The muscles under your fingertips twitch. His chest touches yours. His skin is slimy, coated in sweat. His face is in your neck, whispering things about how pretty you are, telling you how good it is that you're still, how much he's going to enjoy this. Your ears hear this, but your mind denies what is happening. Some sort of life essence must fill this monster thrusting up into your inner depths. Yes, yes, you feel it. Yes! Yes, you feel it don't you? Feel that thrumming underneath your fingertips! You're going to be so free, so free so soon! You can do it, you tell yourself! 

That same hand that so gently caressed his skin, the one that you feel shaking, it's so ready. You're  _so_ ready! 

Your hand opens up, your claws sharpen, and your hand plunges through his chest. Dark blood sprays on your own skin, and you feel your hand wrap around something solid and beating.  _He has a heart?_

With a yank and a sucking sound, the beating organ is yanked from the hole in his chest. Tendrils keep the heart connected to his body. He has stopped thrusting. He whispers your name. 

You feel his body twitch. His heart beats wildly in your hand. You squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze. Your solid black claws dig into the pumping flesh and then- 

Like a balloon, it bursts. More blood sprays. He collapses against your body, giving a few final twitches before  _yes, he is dead!_

You slide out form underneath your attacker, gathering your clothes. Slowly, you put them back on. It constricts your breathing, but where you plan on going, they must wear clothing. The limping is only semi bad, since he didn't get to go as long as he wants to. He's still wheezing, somehow, breathing out your name carefully. You ignore him. He is unworthy of your attention, your name. 

Your firm, bruised hands, grab the door handle. 

You are free. 

Say it. 

Open it. 

"I am free." 

-

A large gust of hot air, and Prince Gaap is being thrown up. He desperately claws at the wall of his reality, falling apart around him. After he had killed that ugly man, he had fled his Palace. He got his firm, bruised hands on a few ingredients and opened a portal to anywhere but where he was. And he had been sucked up. 

Prince Gaap feels a force against his back, unwilling to let him pass. It feels like rocks. Did he make it through? Exhausted pants ravage his body, as his magic and the Earth's atmosphere battle. He's being thrown between two different worlds. One with plenty of oxygen and trees and humans, and another with demons and Father and a prison pretending to be a Palace. 

With a mighty flap of Gaap's pretty, feathered wing, he breaks through Earth's resistance. 

He's going back up, and he feels his body hit the Earth's crust, and then he's soaring. 

Gaap flails uselessly, opening his eyes to see a cobblestone road underneath him. Steam is coming off of his entire body- Earth is very very cold! He is about to start shivering when he starts descending. Half of him expects to melt right back into Hell, sink below the Earth's surface and slowly, slowly go back. But that is the exact opposite of what actually happens, because Gaap collides with the cobblestone road. He makes a vague sound of pain, feeling bones crunch and his skin is tender. 

His blurry vision finally focuses, and he inhales deeply. 

The air smells sweet. Sugary sweet. The sky is dark, littered with little glowing dots. Gaap shakily sits up, feeling his entire body ache. His clothing was tattered in his travels, his cloak turned to a few shreds of fabric. His ruffled dress have been reduced to nothing more than half a blouse, his pretty stockings had holes blown out in them. He is in no shape to move. 

At least, he grimly thinks, you're away from the Devil and his grabbing hands. 

Gaap pulls his cloak off, using the wall as support to stand. His legs are shaking, and he looks at his hands. Black, round tips instead of the claws is he is so used to. How old does he appear to be? 

He staggers towards glass on the ground, and carefully looks at his reflection. 

He looks like a teenager. His hair is still long and curly, his eyes are still bloody red. He takes a curly tip between two fingers, looking from his dirty reflection to his inky black hair. Gaap licks his chapped lips, and looks up as he hears foot steps. Two creatures pass him, their arms interlocked. The tall light across the cobblestone path illuminates their faces. The one with the longer hair is laughing, and the one with the strange clothing on top of his head is looking at the other's chest. 

Humans, Gaap thinks. Humans, they're called. Father spoke lowly of humans. They're cattle, he would say, they're cattle. For us to consume. But Gaap has never seen a human. 

He makes his way to the entrance to this dead end street, his tender fingertips dragging along the side of the nearest structure. There are almost now other humans, except the two that just passed him. Should he eat them? No, his stomach isn't quite growling yet. Gaap sniffs the air, gets a hold of the human's scent. It's a rather pleasant smell, humans must keep themselves clean. 

Gaap looks at their clothing, then at his own. At least, he remembers that humans keep their lower regions covered. And Gaap's underwear seems to have made it through the journey. 

He takes a deep breath, straightening up. His own slim body is soon in the light, his bare feet making little sound on the rough pathway. He wiggles his toes, getting used to the feeling. He scratches his neck, feeling flakes of dried blood come off. He licks his lips again, smelling two more humans coming around the corner. They have thick accents, something Gaap has never heard before. He panicks and retreats back into his little dead end street, pressing his back against the building. 

"I'm telling you, Vincent, there's something off about how he looked at you." 

"And I'm telling you that that man is scared shitless of me." 

"You have to be more careful, Vincent."

"Are you serious, Dee?" 

Gaap struggles to understand what they're saying, only catching bits and pieces. They're coming up on his little hiding spot, and his breathing quickens. 

"I'm completely serious! You could die! To your disappointment, you're not invincible."

"The chances of me dying anytime soon is extremely slim, Dee. Now don't talk so loud. Why don't you stuff your big mouth with another sandwich?" 

Pain shoots through Gaap's spine as he shifts, and an unwilling yelp leaves his mouth. He immediately covers his mouth with his hands, closing his eyes. His entire body freezes up, and tears start to leak from his eyes. The footsteps are getting quicker, and he can't move his legs! Gaap tries in vain to move, but he only succeeds in dragging his body a little over a foot before his arms give out, too. He's crying openly now, hiding his face in his arms. He can hear the footsteps pounding against the insides of his skull.

 

"Dee, Dee, come here," the one named Vincent says quietly. "Vincent, we don't have time to be saving ki- oh... oh hell," the other one says in an accent very different from the Vincent one.

"Is...is it alive?"

"Don't say it, Dee, it's offensive."

"Are they alive?"

 

Gaap nearly jumps out of his skin when the smoother, prettier accent calls, "Hey, kid! Can you hear me?" Gaap stays put, but he nods. The two humans get uncomfrotable close, and a warm hand is on Gaap's lower back. 

"Vince, this kid doesn't look too good. We better get them somewhere safe. The hospital, probably."

Gaap cries out, lifting his head when he hears a snapping directly in front of his face. He sees a pretty face, one of the two men laying in front of him. He looks relatively young, with a mole under his left eye. His hair is short, a pretty slate color. "Hey there, kiddo! We're going to get you somewhere safe," he says. 

"Vincent, get off of the ground. Help me lift him up."

Gaap is at a loss as Vincent gets up, and then he's being lifted carefully. Does it really take two people to carry him? Surely he's lighter than this? 

"Can you tell us your name," Vincent asks, and Gaap shakes his head. 

"Can I give you a name?" 

Gaap blinks a few times, looking up at Vincent before looking at the other one. He must be Dee. Gaap nods, even if it hurts his head. 

"Alright...Let me think." 

Gaap allows his eyes to close as Vincent thinks, exhaustion taking over his bones. He jerks awake as Vincent suddenly speaks, "Sebastian! Your name is Sebastian." 

 

Sebastian....Sebastian...

 

Anything is better than Prince Gaap. 


	2. Chapter 2

These hands are somehow different than the ones that Prince Gaap...  _Sebastian_ experienced while in the depths of Hell. They are somehow solid, somehow less threatening.

_Do VIncent and Dee really have no intention of hurting you?_

They seem to be simply carrying him, walking at a brisk-ish pace.

 _Where are they even planning on taking you, Prince Gaap?_  

Shut up, shut up!

 

Sebastian groans, deciding to open his eyes and see for himself. For some reason, his neck isn't going to move. So, he's stuck staring at the dark sky. It's so pretty.... Little dots of light, far in the distance. Scarlet eyes flicker from Dee to Vincent's face, realizing that they are talking about what to do with him. "We should take him to a hospital," Vincent is urging, his hands holding Sebastian's top half. "No, we shouldn't," Dee argues, holding up Sebastian's bottom half, "Do you know how hard it will be to explain this? We're going to get questions like 'what were you doing out at this hour?' and 'why is he wearing women's clothing?'" Vincent's left hand clenches slightly around Sebastian's torn dress, "As Vincent Phantomhive, I have it on good authority  _from the Queen_ that I have permission to do whatever the hell I want." 

Dee stops walking, causing Sebastian to be slightly bent. He yelps in pain, feeling little spikes in his lower half. He wants to cry, it hurts so bad. Dee growls, but he isn't looking at Vincent, "You know that it's too risky. He could panic, and hurt himself even more."

"So you'd rather Sebastian be in pain?" 

"Did you give him his own name?"

Vincent makes a vague 'tch' sound, and bites the inside of his cheek. Sebastian hangs his head back, absolutely sick of hearing these two argue. Even if he can only understand bits and pieces of their English through their thick accents. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He ends up looking like a fish choking on air, repeatedly trying to talk but absolutely nothing coming out but small sounds of pain as Dee starts to walk again. Vincent seems to pick up these tiny whines, since he tries to slow his walking just a little bit. They're on the lit up sidewalk, and Sebastian is realizing just how badly he's hurting. He doesn't know what a hospital is, or what doctors are. But whatever it is, Vincent is strongly advising Dee that they go. These two sure do fight a lot. Dee seems more like an overly worried parent than a best friend.  Sebastian manages the strength to sniff the air, for the hormones and mood of the scene. He gets strong whiffs of dopamine and serotonin. 

These two are undoubtedly, hopelessly, completely in love. How cute! 

A lazy smile comes across his lips, trying to imagine what Vincent's and Dee's babies would look like. He doesn't know much about human reproduction, about as much as he knows about the abstract Russian language. But he figures that it would have Vincent's looks, Dee's accent, and Dee's hair. 

 

Vincent and Dee seem to have come to a conclusion, because Sebastian is being loaded into some strange contraption with a strange, smelly, four legged animal making 'neigh' noises occasionally. 

- 

Vincent and Dee have a castle. It's a massive building, quite unlike anything that Sebastian has ever seen before. He's not sure how long he was in the weird wheeled thing, with the stranger creature pulling it. But once the contraption stops, Vincent opens a door and Sebastian slowly gets out. His body is already healing itself, various cuts closing and various burns healing. The skin blisters and pops and heals within thirty seconds. He watches the burns on his palms heal, and Vincent looks a little sick. 

Why did it have to be so obvious? 

"Good call not taking him to the hospital," Vincent murmurs, watching a cut on Sebastian's lower back close up. 

Sebastian blushes, and covers his lower back with his hands. For Vincent to look at such a place! Vincent laughs a little, takes Sebastian's hand, and gently helps him up the stairs. 

- 

The inside of the castle is even more magnificent than the outside. It's so different than the Palace back at Hell. So much smaller... what are the floors made of? Sebastian is in complete amazement, his mouth hanging open slightly. He's limping a bit, and Vincent murmurs, "Let's get you somewhere where you can sleep." 

Sleep? 

Sebastian follows Vincent, his eyes adjusting expertly to the dark while Vincent fumbles around for a match to light the candles. Sebastian takes a few steps ahead and snatches the matches from a table. He looks at them carefully, sniffing the open package. His nose wrinkles, not a fan of the smell. But Vincent is still looking for them. This man rescued you from the streets, you owe him. Sebastian walks to Vincent, taking his warm hand gently. Sebastian turns Vincent's hand around, looking at the lines of his palm. What have these hands touched? Who have these hands held? Humans have such an interesting life, their memories stored away in their wondrous brains. Sebastian's hot fingertips trace over the lines in Vincent's palm, thinking about how these solid hands were just carrying Sebastian's own hands. 

"Sebastian?" 

Sebastian looks at Vincent's face, even though Vincent can't see in the dark. It's pitch black, Vincent couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. 

"Sebastian, is something wrong?" 

Red eyes flicker back down to Vincent's hand, held so delicately on Sebastian's overheated skin. 

Sebastian places the matches in Vincent's open hand, smiling. Vincent lets out a small chuckle, and lights up the first candle. "You're a funny fellow," Vincent murmurs, and Sebastian just tilts his head. He licks his lips, wanting to speak. But he doesn't know enough to talk. He just smiles wider, hoping that Vincent won't question him. 

"Why don't you talk, Sebastian?"

Aaaand there goes that silent prayer to Satan. 

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek, looking away. His throat closes up, and he feels his chest area drop into his stomach area. He blinks slowly, feeling that exhaustion weighing down again. Vincent seems to get that Sebastian isn't going to be talking anytime soon, so he just sighs and lights the next candle.  Sebastian doesn't want to disappoint Vincent, he wants to learn English. Or,  more of it. He wants to be able to talk to his saviors. Sebastian rethinks how Vincent pronounces words, and like a mocking bird... 

"Sleep," Sebastian murmurs, mimicking Vincent's accent. Vincent turns to Sebastian, and smiles widely, "You're from England?" 

Sebastian blinks cluelessly. Can Vincent please point to England on a map? 

"I guess not," Vincent murmurs, going back to lighting a few more candles. 

- 

"This room is directly across from mine, and next to Dee's. If you need water or have to use the washroom, or whatever, don't be afraid to come and get me. I would be cautious about waking Dee, though. He's a little cranky," Vincent says as he opens the door to a bedroom of sorts. The bed looks big and plush and comfortable. Sebastian doesn't truly need sleep, but after part of extreme trauma, he's been sleeping lately.  Vincent smiles so kindly, so warmly. It seems to melt Sebastian's skin nearly right off his bones. 

Sebastian bites his bottom lip, nodding at Vincent's soft goodnight. 

He left a lit candle, with it's respectful holder, on the coffee table. Sebastian is secretly glad that Vincent did so. 

 

He isn't too fond of the dark. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use Dee because I can't spell his full name.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian has trouble sleeping. He isn't used to it like humans are. Humans shut off after   of sleeping. But Sebastian? No, he only sleeps when he needs major healing done. But, honestly, it isn't so much his  _body_ that needs healing but more of his mind. His mind needs so much healing that he expects Vincent to kick down his door and start licking between his thighs. Murmuring ' _I deserve this'_ and ' _you need to repay me'._ When, any rational being would know that Vincent isn't going to do that. Sebastian isn't exactly rational these days, though. 

Sebastian looks at himself in the tall mirror, squinting at his reflection. He does seem like a mess. Couldn't Vincent have let him stay in the street? Isn't that where  _trash_ and  _dirt_ and  _sluts_ and  _whores_ and  _rats_ live? Shouldn't someone with a castle like Vincent's only speak to other people with castles? Because Sebastian has no castle. He has no castle, no love, no Dee to take care of him, no Dee to tend to his wounds, nothing to wipe his tears with but his own filthy hands. Sebastian's fingernails sharpen, and his eyes start to water. 

Vincent doesn't want you. You will be kicked out tomorrow morning. You should leave now. To spare yourself. You aren't wanted here, you don't belong here, you need to just leave Vincent alone. 

He climbs under the blankets, closing his eyes slowly. The wind blows outside, making the trees shake and the leaves rustle and Sebastian watches in wonder. Earth is so alive. Breathing in and out with the millions of humans it harbors and protects. Everything about Earth is alive. There are millions of layers of moving, breathing, squirming rocks underneath Vincent's feet. Earth is constantly moving, her heart is always beating. Loud and clear and comforting for a cold demon like Prince Gaap, no,  _Sebastian._ Your name is Sebastian now, remember? Prince Gaap didn't make it, they died so long ago. 

Sebastian exhales slowly, pulling the soft blanket over his shoulders. He closes his eyes tighter, listening to the Vincent Castle breathing in and out with Her Mother Earth. 

He stands up, trailing his claws along the soft sheets. He looks at himself in the mirror again, hanging his head to the side. He smiles a little, looking at his long hair.  "Look at you," he murmurs, in a language that certainly isn't English.  "Look at you," he murmurs again, taking all of his hair in one hand. His free hand, with the razor sharp claws, begins hacking and ripping at his beautiful long hair. 

"See? When your hair and clothes are gone, you're nothing but a useless boy. You aren't beautiful. You never were." 

- 

"Sebastian? Sebastian? Are you awake?" 

Muffled voices, probing in Sebastian's sleeping. 

"Sebastian, I don't know if you'd like to eat, but..." 

Red eyes snap open, and Sebastian fumbles out of bed. He didn't take off his ragged clothes, and he is shaking harshly. He sees his hair clippings on the floor and a startled cry leaves him. Vincent seems a little concerned, because he knocks again, "Sebastian? Are you okay?" 

Sebastian gently picks up his hair clippings as Vincent opens the door. Sebastian looks at the foot and a half (or so) of hair, trying to figure out what he was thinking last night. "V-Vin-," he begins, but then his voice stops. He turns to look at his savior, one word flashing across his brain in bright yellow neon. 

_UNWANTEDUNWANTEDUNWANTEDUNWANTEDUNWANTEDUNWANTED_

Those god awful tears are coming back, filling Sebastian's eyes. Vincent immediately puts down the tray he was carrying, crouching down in front of the kneeling Sebastian. Vincent smells clean, like he had bathed that morning with amazing smelling soap. Sebastian's eyes fill with more tears, and then they're coming down his cheeks. 

"I know you don't speak very much English, but could you somehow tell me what's wrong," Vincent asks, his brown eyes to caring and warm and Sebastian is going to melt. But he tries and tries to speak, nothing coming out but weird coughs. He clutches his cut off hair like a lifeline, watching Vincent's face. "Unwanted," Sebastian eventually murmurs. He surprised that his voice works, and that his English sounds so clear. Vincent tilts his head a little to the left, his eyebrows furrowing. Sebastian doesn't have anything else to say. 

Vincent looks down at the hair in Sebastian's hands, then reaches up and gently runs his hands through the rest of Sebastian's hair. It's shorter in the back than in the front, and leftover pieces of bangs fall in Sebastian's face. 

"There," Vincent murmurs, and stands up. He shuts the door when he leaves, letting the hair slip from Sebastian's fingertips. He looks at the food that Vincent had left, along with a steaming cup of tea. Sebastian stands, and steps on the hair leftovers as he walks to his breakfast. This is his life, he thinks to himself, this is who he is now. 

- 

After eating most of what Vincent gave him, Sebastian carefully leaves his room. He sniffs the air, looking for Vincent's clean cut scent. He had gotten a good whiff when Vincent played with his hair earlier, and Sebastian is pretty sure that he'll never forget it. Vincent...Vincent... 

Sebastian looks across the hall, smelling a strong scent of  _Vincent_ coming from that direction. He slowly opens the door, calling out softly, "Vincent?" 

Ah, Sbeastian had also spent at least ten minutes in the mirror learning how to pronounce 'Vincent' and 'Dee' properly. 

But Sebastian doesn't find Vincent in his room. And the entire castle is drenched in Vincent's scent. How is he ever going to find his way around? 

Sebastian senses footsteps, and instead of panicking, he stays put because  _what if it's Vincent?._ It turns out to be a servant of sorts, carrying the white sheets. Sebastian reaches out, tugging on the dress the servant is wearing. She turns around, looking at Sebastian expectantly. "Vincent," he asks softly, and she points down the hall, "Master is in his study."

Sebastian blinks. 

She sighs, and agrees to show him the way. 

- 

Sebastian nervously plays with his hands, knowing how he looks. Undies that belong on women, a barely there dress, and holes in his mismatched stockings. "Vin-Vincent," he murmurs, slowly walking into Vincent's office. Vincent looks up from his desk, which has neat stacks of paper that are taller than Vincent's head. Vincent seems a little flushed, carefully avoiding looking at Sebastian's lower regions. 

"Yes, Sebastian?" 

Sebastian plays with a tendril on his destroyed clothing, murmuring, "Dress? Dress? New dress?" 

"You want a new dress?" 

"New dress." 

"A new dress or new clothes?" 

"New dress, new clothes..."  

"Like... poof poof fluffy dress?" 

"Poof poof fluffy?" 

Vincent smiles to himself, and stands up, "You're a bit short but I'm sure you can fit into my clothes. I'll have a dress made for you, but until then you'll have to wear what I do." 

Sebastian smiles, and follows Vincent out. 

-

Sebastian tries to stay still as Vincent's strong hands rip open his dress. Soon everything is around Sebastian's ankles, but Vincent doesn't seem to mind. His hands are warm on Sebastian's back. The caress the imprints of cloth on Sebastian's ribs, but immediately retract when Sebastian makes a vague sound of pain. A faint 'what the hell happened' leaves Vincent's lips, but Sebastian doesn't answer him. Pretends to not hear the soft question. 

He is soon dressed in clothing almost exactly like Vincent. But he feels  _wrong_ in Vincent's clothing. The waistcoat is too big, and everything felt too wrong. Sebastian makes a high pitched whine, pulling on the pants he is wearing. 

"Dress," he repeats, squirming. Vincent sighs, standing up from the chair he was sitting in. 

"Do you want to borrow one of the maid's dresses?" 

"Dress!" 

- 

Sebastian is naked and dressed again, with Vincent's skillful hands. He feels so much better in a dress, where he can feel his thighs touching. He spins around, and smiles at himself in the mirror. Vincent doesn't understand (Sebastian is clearly male but he's also clearly from a different culture, so...) 

Sebastian smiles widely at Vincent, who opens the door. 

"Come on, Sebastian, it's time you learn how to be a proper Phantomhive maid." 


	4. Chapter 4

_"The first step to be a good servant is to learn English."_

Sebastian lets out a groan of frustration. He knows Latin, he knows French and Japanese and Chinese but this English is getting underneath his skin. He presses his forehead into the book that he's struggling to read. Vincent has produced a children's book, meant for tiny humans who didn't know any English.

Vincent is sitting across from Sebastian, his legs crossed. Sipping tea that an old man with a tailcoat made for him. Sebastian's brain is constricting and twisting, refusing to accept that the verb does not go at the end and that the past tense of the word 'cut' is 'cut'. To distract himself, Sebastian asks cautiously, "Dee?"

Vincent doesn't look up from his papers, "Went back to Germany. Now keep reading. You're a smart gal, I'm sure you can get through at least the first page."

Although Sebastian can't understand anything that he's saying, he nods. After a few more quiet moments, however, Sebastian closes the book and tosses it on the ground. He shakes his head, looking at Vincent. The man- or, is Vincent still young enough to call boy?- simply huffs, folding his newspaper a few times. He places it on the nearby table, and stretches to reach the children's book.

"Come here, Sebastian," Vincent says firmly, and the Prince stands on shaking legs. He makes his way over to Vincent's chair, plopping himself down on the chair arm. Vincent scoots a bit, but Sebastian doesn't think that it's all that necessary. He peers over, trying to get a good look. Vincent is running his fingers over the worn pages. He looks a bit sad. What happened, Sebastian wonders. He sniffs the air very lightly, but even then he's over whelmed with the scent of loss.

"My mother," Vincent begins, "Used to read this book to me when I was younger. I was scared of the storms, and the book about the knight saving the day made me calm. I liked it because the knight and the dragon ended up as friends..." Those brown eyes suddenly look lost and sad, a boy much too young to live in such a big, empty house. Sebastian wants to talk, he wants to console Vincent. But he has no recollection of his own mother, and somehow it feels wrong to talk about mothers.

Vincent forces a smile, "Never mind about that. I'll read it to you, okay?"

Sebastian blinks, unsure of what Vincent said. He can only understand little bits. He just listens to Vincent talk, craning his head to get a better look at the pretty pictures. Sebastian almost panics when he doesn't feel his long hair sliding against his body.

The memories of cutting it all off come back to him. He's glad that it's gone. Part of him didn't want to cut it. But the inky curls came alive at night, forcing their way passed the Prince's lips. Black tentacles of hair would fill Sebastian's throat, and dive in deeper still. Deeper and deeper until the Prince gagged and drooled and puked up his semen slick dinner.

Sebastian opens his mouth slightly, but takes in a great deal of air. The sudden moving of his organs has his body twisting uncomfortably. But he's thankful that his wind pipe is clear. After reassuring himself, Sebastian lets his body sink back to it's dormant, statue-like, lifeless self.

Yes, it's a good thing those killer curls are chopped off. Gone. Dead. He isn't Prince Gaap anymore. He's Sebastian. And he has to learn English.

"Sebastian, have you been listening," Vincent asks him, as Sebastian blinks. The Prince tilts his head again, and Vincent sighs.

"Sometimes I forget that you can't understand me. And I feel  like I'm talking to myself. Maybe I am going crazy."

-

Vincent found that Sebastian knows perfect French when he gets corrected. He had asked Tanaka for another cup of tea, and Sebastian had politely said that tea wasn't pronounced like that. Vincent could understand him, and Sebastian could understand Vincent. They began making progress instantly.

"You're doing good," Vincent says, closing the children's book. Sebastian had read it nearly perfectly, his demonic mind putting the pieces together very quickly. Vincent seemed to be confused, but the quicker Sebastian learned English, the quicker he could be trained to be a servant.

"So, shall we go to a longer book?"

-

It takes all of about three days for Sebastian to learn English. He was putting sentences together after a day. And then he read the entire Book of Leviticus. He was making alarming gains, but it’s not like it was a problem. Sebastian had been found on the side of the road in panties and a corset. He’s obviously weird.

Sebastian makes a soft purring sound as he shuts the book. “All done,” he says with a proud smile (and in English too!). He feels something weird in his chest, a fluttering happiness that hasn’t been there for a…very very long time. He smiles again, showing his sharp teeth.

“Now that you know proper English,” Vincent says, plopping back down into his chair, “I need to talk to you. In order for you to be my servant, I need to know some background info. How do I know you aren’t here to kill me? Not that you’d tell me anyway…but let’s start with something easy. Parents.” Sebastian’s head jerks up, he takes a deep breath in, and doesn’t move for a second. Pa-Paren-Parent..Parent. Parent.

/ˈperənt/ noun, A father or mother

Sebastian exhales slowly, and puts English together in his mind, “My mother is dead. My father is…dead to me. He is very much alive, but he treats me like no son. A better title, perhaps, for me would have been…an object to play with. Something to be used up and tosses aside.” Vincent nods, murmuring, “Toy. The word you’re looking for is toy.”

“Yes, toy. Thank you.”

There is a long silence between the two of them. Vincent looks as if he’s putting the pieces together. Sebastian stays there on the floor, his legs tucked underneath him. Is Vincent judging him? Is he going to be kicked out? Vincent is eerily silent, crossing his legs and interlocking his fingers. “And where is your father now, Sebastian,” he asks. Sebastian licks his lips, exhaling softly.

You can’t kill Lucifer, can you? If there was a way, it had to be easier than what he did… Sebastian clears his throat, images of blood flashing across his memory. Holding his father’s heart in  his hand, feeling it beat.. “I killed him,” Sebastian says firmly, settling down. Vincent makes a humming noise, looking away.

“Well, since you know English, I suppose the next step is teaching the correct ways to be a servant. You’ll be a chambermaid, which means that you’ll be cleaning…a lot of cleaning. Tanaka will show you everything you need to know tomorrow. It’s quite late, isn’t it? And I’ve put off many business meetings to play with you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian nods, keeping quiet. A chambermaid…Chambers? Isn’t that just bedrooms? How many bedrooms could this castle have? The Prince watches Vincent stand up and brush his pants off, smoothing his clothes out. He smiles at Sebastian, and Sebastian looks away. He whines softly, respectfully avoiding Vincent’s eyes as the Earl steps out.

Has it really gotten this late? How cold is it outside? When the door shuts, Sebastian stands. His knees are a bit wobbly, and he staggers before gaining his footing. The demon steps to the window, peering outside. It feels cold. He puts a hand up to the glass, only to retract it just as quickly. Yes, it is definitely very cold. Although Vincent keeps complaining about heat…He does not know heat like Prince Gaap does. Hell is a very warm place. Demons thrive. It’s just the right temperature. Sebastian exhales, fogging up the glass. As much as he misses Hell’s scalding hot winds (or, he assumes they’d be scalding for humans), he knows that he can’t go back. Ever. Not unless Father grabs a hold of him and drags him down.

He shakes his head,  clearing his mind of those cobwebs. That was a long time ago (how long have you been out of his claws?) and no no, Father can’t get to you anymore (are you sure, Prince Gaap?), and- and-. Sebastian digs his nails into the palms of his hand, feeling blood start to drip. He slowly retracts his claws, still calmly watching out the window. A good servant. Be a good servant. You must be a good servant. A good servant… 

And good servants don’t act like this. 

Sebastian licks his palms, the wound healing under his saliva-coated tongue. It dries up and closes up, leaving nothing but spit-shine skin. There is no chance of Father finding him..not here. The Apothecary he had visited wouldn’t reveal his location. Demons are greedy, filthy things but they are not liars. That one being is the only one who knows where their beloved Prince went. And she only knows that Prince Gaap went to Earth. Not where he landed, not where he went, not what name he’s under. 

The Prince stands there for hours and hours, watching the sky turn. The starts twinkle and wink at him. No exhaustion creeps into his legs. His knees don’t wobble or bend. He is the rightful ruler of Hell- the only legitimate child his Father managed to produce. Not just any old babe can become the King of Hell. Sebastian was born with long claws and longer teeth, sharp senses, brilliantly red eyes, and the attitude to match his appearance. Oh, but Father was terrified that his precious son would overthrow him. 

Perhaps Sebastian would have. Perhaps Sebastian would have sunk his teeth and claws into his neck, held him there between his jaws and shook him around a bit. That could not kill Satan, however. 

Sebastian shakes his head again. That is not his life. That is not him. No, he is Vincent Phantomhive’s chamber maid. He is the perfect servant. He is pious and precise and quick and obedient. He is the perfect, perfect, perfect servant. That is his aesthetic. He exhales again, fogging up the entire window. Sebastian reaches up and writes his name in the fog. 

Sebastian Michaelis. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild warning for gore.  
> I'm not sorry that this chapter is over 3k words

There was a French man that Sebastian had met once. His name, ironically, was Sebastien Michaelis. The two had met sometime during the sixteenth century, when the strange old man was working furiously on a book. The Young Prince- even younger than he is now- had sat on the man's desk, listing off the demons he knew. At the time, he had no idea that Michaelis would later use this to harm his kind. Bind those powerful demons in chains, slice into their skin, starve them, experiment and...other horrendous things. Horrendous for even a demon. Michaelis had written a book,  _Histoire Admirable de La Possession Et Conversion D'une Penitente,_ which included the classification of demons. The man was kind enough to the Young Prince. Feeding him disgusting human food. Sebastian had complied easily, stuffing his face to seem human. Even at that innocent age, Sebastian understood that he needed to keep up appearances. 

Humans fascinated him. Sebastian wanted to learn more and more and more and more. However, winter had come. And winter meant it would become much much much colder. And no, Sebastian was not yet old enough to survive his own winter. Reluctantly, the Prince returned to his Father. 

So, in this new life, Sebastian remembered that humans have two names. He should ask why sometime. But he'd figured that he'd choose one for himself...

Sebastian Michaelis. 

 

As the night wears on, Sebastian finds himself more and more sleepless. He's wandering around the library, trailing his fingers across the spines of the books. His sensitive fingertips traces over the binding, the engraved words, the lovely letters. He doesn't bother reading any of them- he's practically read half of this library. Vincent couldn't seem to believe how quickly Sebastian was grasping his language. Sebastian sits back down in Vincent's chair, smothering himself in the young man's scent. He squirms, trying to soak the cologne into his skin. The more he smells like anything but  _Prince Gaap_ the less likely it is that anyone will find him. Oh god, if Father were to find him like this...Perched in a human's castle with a too big maid's dress..Bowing down to the cattle. 

Sebastian stands up, flattening out his dress. He lifts his nose and sniffs the air a bit. Of course, Vincent's scent is everywhere. But where is it strongest? Humans sleep, right? Where could Vincent be sleeping at? The Prince slips out of the room for the first time in days, his eyes wide and his senses on high alert. He can hear the servants downstairs snoring. The wind blows, dead trees groan. Above everything, Sebastian manages to sniff out Vincent. The smell of the man makes his mouth water. This human is not bad at all. Not at all, Prince Gaap. He looks nice, smells nice, his hands feel soft and- 

Prince Gaap- Sebastian, Sebastian,  _Sebastian, his name is Sebastian-_ presses his nose to a door. He inhales deeply. Yes, this is Vincent's room. Without a doubt. Sebastian opens the door slowly, his eyes adjusting easily to the complete darkness. He can see the outline of a human (presumably Vincent) laying in a bed. Sleeping. Yes, he is sleeping. It's such an odd thing for Sebastian to see. He's seen humans rest before. They seem to be so vulnerable. For such a long time, as well. However has the human race become so...dominating? Do they not realize the things that hide in the dark, waiting to eat them? Sebastian moves to the side of the bed Vincent is on, watching curiously. How can a thing be unaware of it's surroundings for so long? 

Sebastian stands there for a long time, but eventually finds his way out. It's still very very dark. Very dark. It doesn't bother Sebastian much. He sneaks out of the room, walking silently down the hall. He got a good whiff of Vincent's sweat and skin on the bed sheets. He can pinpoint the smell...

Downstairs, there is a small pile of clothes waiting to be washed. They reek of Vincent. Sebastian finds himself a nice spot in the middle of the clothes. He rolls in them, pressing his face into the smellier parts of the pile. Sebastian lays there for a very long time, letting himself ferment in the musky pile. He watches light creep in through the little window in the laundry room. 

It's a very long time for Sebastian to be alone. He has never been this alone before. Sure, he had his moments when Father wasn't invading his head, but...Never like this. It's only as matter of time before Sebastian's precious silence is interrupted. A short time after the warm sun rose to give life to the cold Prince, a human dared invade on his space. It had to happen eventually, the Prince reasons. He sits up in his pile of clothes, watching the maid intensely. She seems lost. 

"U-Uh..M-Mister Tanaka... _It's_ in here! WH-," she stammers, bustling out. Sebastian curls back up in  his smelly pile, watching the door closely and soaking up the sun's warmth. He is too weak to summon up a growl. Maybe it's time to come to terms with Vincent about his heritage.  No, Vincent will throw you out. Sebastian lets out a satisfied purr, hearing more footsteps approach. The handle turns and Sebastian is surprised to see Vincent standing in the doorway.   
"Now, Sebastian, that is  _not_ how a servant acts! Get out of that dirty clothes pile right now. Come here." 

His voice is stern. Very stern. Sebastian hesitates. He's never heard Vincent talk to him this way. He figures that complying will get him in less trouble, however. Sebastian stands up, walking towards Vincent slowly, cautiously. "Closer," the young man says, his tone even but scary sort of calm. Sebastian stands within a reasonable distance, watching the human closely. 

It all happens very fast. 

Vincent raises his hand, the maid gasping, and the sting on the Prince's cheek. His head snaps in the direction of Vincent's slap. Sebastian stays perfectly still, too shocked to do anything. Had he not been free this entire time? Has he fallen into the claws of another monster? 

"I had a dress tailored for you, Sebastian. It's waiting in your room. Go change. Don't ever do this again." 

- 

The dress fits well. When had Vincent taken his measurements? The dress ,overall, is very comfortable. Sebastian can feel his thighs touch, he can feel the fabric against his knees. It's not itchy, or over revealing. Maybe a bit of a teaser. Sebastian steps out his designated room. He hasn't spent much time in it. The walls come alive at night and taunt him. Ghost fingers on his ankles and elbows. Digging into his stomach, pulling on his hair, pressing on his teeth. No. No.

"Vincent," Sebastian calls, pressing his back against his door. Vincent is just around the corner. Sebastian's sharp ears detect the little gasp that comes from the young man, and a light blush dusts Sebastian's cheeks. He doesn't look...that bad. Vincent clears his throat, walking closer to get a better look. He nods and makes a few sounds of agreement, "Yeah, that looks good. I like it on you. Alright. So, here's the deal. I'm expecting company tonight. A few business partners. You are to shadow Tanaka and learn all the ins and outs of the house. You are intelligent, Sebastian-" 

"Vincent?" 

"Don't interrupt me. You're an intelligent thing, Sebastian, so you'll pick up quickly. Now, I'm done talking. Ask your question." 

"Why did you name me Sebastian?" 

Vincent seems surprised by the question. He is silent for a moment, and then he eventually says, "Well Sebastian is a name meaning venerable, or to be revered. To be respected. Not a lot of people show up on the alleys on London looking like you, Sebastian. I figured you went through some sort of Hell, and you could have used a nice warm place for a night or so." 

Or so, Sebastian repeats in his mind. He makes a little sound, pretending to be satisfied with his answer. He'll have to probe more later, when Tanaka isn't coming down the hallway. He can hear the man's footsteps. They are confident. One foot in front of the other, poised and precise. Will Sebastian ever reach that level? Could he ever become such a butler? He watches Tanaka come around the corner, his jaws parting a bit to taste the air. It's...calm. A bit anxious, but nothing to fret over. 

"Who is coming over," Sebastian asks softly, and Vincent just smirks. A chill runs down Sebastian's spine. The Prince has faced true evil. He has seen the depths of Hell, he has seen children slaughtered and old men suffer. He's seen innocents pay for the crimes of the wicked. He has seen Satan's smile. 

Why is that being reflected on the cruel way Vincent's lips curl? 

Sebastian exhales slowly, deciding to not pry anymore. He just nods a bit and says, "I'll be a good maid, Vincent. I'll make you proud." He looks down quickly, then back at Vincent. The evil gloom is gone, leaving behind nothing but that charming young man. "Good," Vincent says, straightening out his clothes, "Now, I have paperwork to tend to. I will be seeing you all this evening. Don't disappoint me, Sebastian." And with that, Vincent turns down the hall and the distant sound of a door opening and closing resonates in Sebastian's eardrums. 

He turns to Tanaka, putting on his best smile. Tanaka smiles back, but it seems fake. Sebastian follows the butler through the intricate hallways, down a set of stairs, and down the hallway. "Master Vincent isn't going to let you stay in a guest room forever. We do have a spare room that we've been using as storage. I suppose you can stay there for now. It's not very big, but I'm sure that it's better than the streets," Tanaka says, coming to a halt. He unlocks a door and hands the key to Sebastian. He opens the door, and Sebastian peeks his head in. There a few stray boxes, a lot of dust, a dresser with the top drawer open, and a rickety bed. It's just enough. Sebastian can't imagine needing more. He doesn't even need sleep. And this dress is really his only clothes. He does still have the clothes he arrived in, but they've been shoved into the farthest corner of his (old) room. They are of no use, no importance. He will not need those clothes here. 

"Looks good," Sebastian murmurs, his pretty red eyes scanning every corner. A few insect demons crawl along the walls. They could be spies. Sebastian makes a mental note to squash them. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, Sebastian thinks. He doesn't need anyone relaying his coordinates to his Father. If his Father is alive, anyway. 

"Doesn't it? Now, come, Sebastian, there are preparations to be made for tonight."

 

It doesn't take long for Sebastian to pick up his new skills. He's remarkably good at..everything. He prepares dinner, he washes the Master's clothes, he polishes the silverware. He's trying his very best, trying to impress Tanaka. He wants to stay here forever. With Vincent and the servants. However, Sebastian knows that humans have a lifespan. At a certain age, they shut down. Slow down completely. Things quit working. Their insides turn to mush and... Sebastian regain focus, turning his attention back to polishing the tea set. His work fast. It's all a blurr. He just remembers Tanaka's instructions, and his brain works much much faster than any other human. His hands work faster, his eyes are quicker, his ears are sharper. At least he has that advantage. 

The big clock in the Master's study rang six times when the guest arrived. He was pulled by the four legged creatures, and stepped out of the pod attached. He dressed much like Vincent. He smelled different. Like the lowlife servants that Father had executed in front of the Palace when Sebastian was young. He can't remember what the servants did, but it must have been bad to be publicly beheaded. Sebastian knows the accent the man has, however. It's just like Vincent's, and Tanaka's, and the maid who found him buried in Vincent's dirty clothes. But the bad feeling doesn't go away. It gnaws at Sebastian's stomach, even as he bows lightly in a greeting. Since his English still has a few bugs, Tanaka does the talking. He greets the guest, even if the man's eyes are plastered on Sebastian. He must make a strange sight. To humans, anyway. Sebastian smiles back, trying to assimilate seamlessly. 

"Master Vincent will see you in the drawing room. Sebastian, why don't you show our guest the way?" 

Sebastian nods making sure the man is following him to the room. The Prince already has the entire estate mapped out in his mind. He follows his path, knocking on the door lightly. He assumes that simply calling Vincent by his name wouldn't be appropriate, he says, "Master? Our guest has arrived." The door opens a moment later, and Vincent smirks out a greeting of sorts, "Mister Coburn! I'm glad you could make it!" Sebastian steps aside, letting the two men meet. "How fares my factory," Vincent asks, motioning for the man to sit down. Sebastian has no interest in their conversation, so he makes himself useful by pouring tea. Their words go right over his head, under his chin, through his brain. Factory, toy, money, give me more. Sebastian makes it fun by translating their words into German and back to English. It's a nice teaser. Sebastian sets the tea down, only looking up when Vincent mentions his name. 

"Can you believe that this is Sebastian's first day on the job? I've only had him at the estate for about a week. We haven't had a proper butler uniform made for him yet, but I rather like the way he looks in this cute little thing," Vincent says, sitting back in his chair. Mister Coburn chuckles out an agreement, sipping his hot tea, "That he does. I was about to ask if he was for sale! My mansion could use a flare of color like him." Sebastian stiffens at being sold like cattle, and he says coldly, "Unfortunately, Mister Coburn, I am quite happy with my current Master and I am in no mood to be  _sold_ to anyone. Much less you." Mister Coburn is silent for a minute. Vincent laughs into his next sip of tea. 

Sebastian stands aside, feeling something warm fill up his chest. Mister Coburn's wounded pride and Vincent's laughter make for a good scene. This is an excellent start to his new life. Mister Coburn clears his throat, "I can believe today is Sebastian's first day, Vincent." The two talk about figures and numbers that make Sebastian's head whirl. He doesn't pay attention unless his name is said. There's a strange scent filling up the room as Mister Coburn asks for more and more. 400,000 more, 3,000 more, how about 100,000 more, Phantomhive? C'mon, do this for your old pal. More workers, an extension, raises...Sebastian realizes the scent is nerves. What is Mister Coburn so nervous about? Sebastian watches the man's movements, his silky black thought process wrapping around the Englishman. He is mistaking Vincent's youth for ignorance. He is trying to play the Earl of Phantomhive and he is failing miserably. 

 

They talk for awhile before Tanaka announces dinner. Sebastian perks up from his docile state, opening his eyes fully and grinding his organs into gear. He follows to the dinner room. Sebastian pours wine while the chef serves dinner. Mister Coburn is damn near shaking. It's rather amusing to watch. When Sebastian refills Mister Coburn's wine glass for the fifth time, Vincent asks, "Are you nervous, Mister Coburn?" The man takes a long sip. He motions for another refill. "No, Vincent, it's just...really good wine," he says before digging back into his meal. Vincent raises an eyebrow, cutting a small piece off his dinner, "You never were a good liar, Mister Coburn." Sebastian smothers a laugh with a cough, standing aside until he is needed. He can smell Mister Coburn and it's...Sebastian's stomach makes a small sound. It's searching for food and with food right there...Sebastian is half tempted to ask if he can devour Mister Coburn. It's painfully obvious what the man is after. And it's painfully obvious that Vincent knows. 

"Sebastian," Vincent says when he's done with his meal. Sebastian looks up, waiting to be given orders. "Our guest would like to use the washroom. Please show him the way," Vincent says with a smirk, wiping his hands with a napkin, "Be sure to show him the full Phantomhive hospitality. Be a polite girl." Sebastian is about to lead the way when Tanaka interjects, "Surely, I could show him. Sebastian is still new, Master Vincent. He could get lost." Vincent's smirk grows, "I have no doubts that Sebastian is fully capable, Tanaka." Sebastian resumes his path. Down the hall, up the stairs, light this candle, third door on the left. Sebastian opens the door for Mister Coburn, smiling as best he can. The smell of him is overwhelming. Fear and sweat cause Sebastian's stomach to twist and want and hungry. Vincent wouldn't care if he was dead. Sebastian opens his mouth slightly, letting the excess drool slide out and down his chin. He presses his nose to the crack in the door. Mister Coburn is mumbling something to God. He is coming to terms with death. 

Surely Vincent's purpose in this was to have Sebastian kill him. That can be the only real reason. It has to be. A shudder passes through the Prince. He presses against the door more, opening it slowly. He has too.He has to...

The door opens slowly. Mister Coburn's breath hitches. Sebastian can pinpoint his location in the bathroom- Mister Coburn didn't turn on any lighting?- and whips his head around to look directly at the man. The door slams shut without Sebastian having to reach for it. Mister Coburn cowers in the corner, shaking like a leaf. Sebastian stalks closer, staring at the delicious blood pumping through Mister Coburn's veins. Sebastian can hear it pumping in his ears. 

A split second later and Sebastian's jaws have clamped down over Mister Coburn's throat. He bites down harder, his mouth filling with blood. He gulps eagerly, then before Mister Coburn can die, Sebastian smashes their mouths together. The man protests weakly- he's losing blood too fast to make any real struggle. Sebastian's tongue acts as a reaper's scythe, severing the soul from the man's body. He gulps it eagerly. The smell of Mister Coburn defecating himself invades Sebastian's senses. He makes a face, pulling back and letting the body slide to the floor. It wasn't enough. 

Sebastian is still hungry. What's left of him? 

Sebastian drops down, hovering over the body. His teeth sharpen again, his claws come out. He bites down on Mister Coburn's slack jaw, giving a little yank and tearing it off completely. Teeth are skin are swallowed whole. Sebastian's canines dig into the dead man's tongue, and with another pull, it comes off, too. Sebastian doesn't chew. He swallows whatever his sharp teeth and wicked lips and forked tongue can get a grip on. The sounds of bone crunching and joints dislocating and skin tearing fill the small bathroom. 

The body is shortly made into a beheaded, bloody mess. 

Sebastian is so engrossed in his feeding frenzy that he doesn't hear Vincent come up the stairs. He doesn't smell the man. He doesn't, not until Vincent is there, leaning against the doorway. 

"My, what a mess you've made, Sebastian." 


End file.
